Hell on Earth
by RachaelPuffinFace
Summary: A virus breaks out turning most of the Earth's inhabitants into monsters. Sometimes, though, it's hard to tell who the real monsters are. The boys try to survive in this new world while keeping eachother safe. (zombie AU) Rated mature for violence, cursing, gory details and possible adult content in the future


Gravel cracked beneath the worn tires of a dusty black car. What once may have been a nice car now looked unkempt and rumbled uncertainly down the small, deserted main road. The driver looked on through dark windows at the cluttered path before him.

Abandoned cars were everywhere. Nearly all of them were missing windows, glass glinting up from the asphalt below. Looters had worked over them and all the stores around. That wasn't a good sign, not at all. There had to be at least one building that hadn't yet been picked over.

A gas station loomed in the distance, a faded sign reading Gas-n-Sip. It looked promising and as he pulled up beside one of the rusting pumps he took in the boarded up windows and door. Bingo.

Now, he wasn't stupid. Obviously someone – maybe even more than one person – had taken this place as a shelter of sorts, but things being the way they were, it was very likely they had already turned, just like all the others. So he grabbed his duffel bag, gun and machete within easy reach, before working his way in.

It hadn't been easy work but before long he was easing the front door open, weapon at the ready. The room was silent so he took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. Keeping his breathing even despite the adrenaline pumping through his veins, he slowly slipped fully in, checking and double checking for anything hidden in the shadows. The coast seemed clear but he refused to lower his weapon.

From what he could see, this stop was proving to be well worth it. Whoever was cooped up in here had barely touched a thing. Shelves were stocked, food was everywhere and his eyes had landed on a certain dirty magazine that he happened to be quite fond of. His fingers had barely brushed the cover before he finally heard them somewhere in the back.

Gun raised and body tensed to fight, he shuffled forward, craning his neck for a better view behind the counter. There was a closed door barricading the creature in, or at one point, he supposed, it had been keeping the creatures out. Through the filthy fogged glass window he could make out its silhouette. Its movements were slow and tentative, unusual for its kind. As it drew closer to the door he could see the head tilt up, almost as if it were sniffing at the air like a dog. He watched on almost in fascination as it almost seemed to come alive, pounding on the door in a steadily more violent beat. It smelled him. It knew he was there.

It didn't take long for webs of fractures spread like fingers over the glass. Taking a moment, he set his bag down on the counter. He wouldn't need it right now, it would only get in the way.

Finally it broke through, strength proving to be too great for the old door. Wood splintered and fell to the ground as he finally got a good look at it.

It was a woman, long hair falling around her face in matted clumps. Her skin was yellowed and loosely hanging on her face resembling a deflating balloon. The most disturbing part, though, was definitely the eyes. They rolled around in her head, never quite focusing on a single thing. They were open wide, wider than anyone's eyes should ever be, too much of the whites showing, if you could even call them that anymore. Swollen red veins burned trails in her eyes until nothing but red was visible. She looked crazed, but, he reminded himself, she wasn't human anymore.

Finally those rolling eyes landed on him and, although they twitched and bulged, they stayed glued to him. Without wasting any times he shot at her, right between the eyes, killing her instantly. These things were fast, strong. They could take down even the most powerful men, and he would know. He had watched some of the best get destroyed by them. You couldn't give them the chance to strike, couldn't let them get too close, because by then it would be too late.

So he watched her die, watched her crumple to the ground, only to be replaced moments later by two more.

"Shit..."

One was a large man, the other a teenager. Both of them locked their gazes on him swiftly, jaws snapping. He needed to kill them before they had the chance to pounce. Readying his gun once more he aimed and shot, barely skimming the man the first time, but the second shot got him in the head. Before he had the chance to kill the teen, he had already bounded over the counter and they clattered to the floor noisily. He rolled over quickly, momentarily gaining the upper hand and reaching for his blade.

The boy's hands scraped at his skin, drawing blood and bringing out an even more ravenous fury than before. These things were balls of blood-thirsty anger wrapped up in human skin, nothing more. They weren't people and they sure as hell didn't deserve his mercy. There was no hesitation before killing it.

Panting slightly, he looked over his bleeding skin but the flow had already ceased. They weren't deep enough to require anything more than some disinfectant. So he stood, wiping the blade clean on the thing's pants, and sheathed it before double checking that there were no more surprises waiting for him. Confident he was finally alone, he quickly stuffed his bag with enough food, booze and dirty magazines to last a few days.

After one last look around the place, he decided to head back before night fell.

To say he was worried was an understatement. With the world being the way it was today, there was no guarantee any of them would have a tomorrow. So when he woke up that morning to find the car gone and his brother missing, Sam began to panic. Dean was a grown man and has proved time and time again that he could handle himself, but this was different. Times had changed and these disappearing acts he favored so much weren't cutting it anymore.

He figured there were mere moments left before sunset when he finally heard the tell-tale sound of the impala's engine coming down the road. They had been using an old farmhouse as a make-shift home for a few days now and had agreed to go out this morning to scavenge up some more food before deciding if they should move on or not. Bit of a nasty surprise for him when he realized that Dean had left him behind. Again.

Jaw clenching, he watched his brother emerge from the car, heavy bag slung over his shoulder. By the look on his face he fully anticipated being bombarded by the full force of Sam's fury but the calm pace his bow-legs were carrying him at showed he didn't care much about that.

"Alright, I already know what you're going to say, but look," he gestured to the bag offhandedly, "I brought dinner."

"Dean-"

"Ah, come on Sammy, I just got back. Can't this wait?"

"No, this can't wait! You went off without me... again!"

"Yeah, I did, and you know what? Everything was fine. Nothing got me, we get to eat tonight, whats the big deal?" Dean pushed his way into the house, carelessly dropping everything and riffling through the duffel until he found his newly acquired copy of Busty Asian Beauties. The way he so leisurely plopped down on the worn couch before propping his boot clad feet up on the arm rest sent a new wave of anger through Sam.

"The 'big deal', Dean, is that I had no idea where you went. You could have died! You could have died out there today and I wouldn't have had any idea. I wouldn't know if you were still out there or not and then, what? I would have waited around for you and-"

"No." The word slipped so easily off Dean's tongue that it stopped his rant clean off.

"No? What do you mean 'no'?"

"I mean," Dean started, barely even looking away from his prize, "if I don't come back, you leave. You move on. Simple as that." Sam's mouth opened and closed several times as he watched his brother flip through several pages, a lecherous smirk playing on his lips.

"Just move on? Leave? That's all you have to say?" Dean gave a simple grunt in affirmation. "I can't just do that."

"Yes you can."

"_No_, I can't!" Their eyes finally met and they silently glared at each other for a full minute, fuming.

"Sammy-"

"No, Dean, I refuse." Dean sighed in aggravation as he finally tossed the magazine aside, knowing this wouldn't be ending any time soon.

"Sam, you have to."

"I can't-"

"Well too bad, because some day you'll have to." Silence rang between them as his statement sunk in. "You'll have to, Sammy, because that's just the way the world is now. Maybe I won't die tomorrow, but who knows about the next day, huh? Or the day after that?" He swallowed hard, the only indication that this was getting to him.

"But why do you keep leaving me behind? I can help, you know I can, we've been together in this from the start. Even with dad-"

"Dad's dead." Any emotion had left those cold green eyes. "He's dead and it won't be long before one of us goes too."

"Dean-"

"No, you listen to me. Those things are everywhere and they want to _kill us_. I'm not gonna just sit around and let you die, so when I say you stay back, you stay back. I can handle getting us some grub all on my own. There's no need for you to go out too. You'll just... you'll just get in the way."

"Get in the way?" All of the fight had left him, there was nothing but disappointment left in his body. He knew Dean could see how his words had affected him but the way he ignored his own brother's pain cut deeper than he could have imagined.

"Yeah, get in the way. I can handle this just fine, Sammy, so just... leave it be." Backing out of this was the only thing on Sam's mind as the sting of Dean's words began to sink in. Running a hand through his shaggy hair, he took a step back, as if physically repelled by his brother's heavy words.

"Leave it be... Yeah, yeah I guess I can do that... just... why would you even bother? Why would you... forget it, just... just forget it, I'm going to bed."

"Sam-" a door slammed somewhere deep in the house, indicating that Sam had already locked himself away. Dean sighed. The kid was just too emotional for a world like this. He would do anything he could to make sure that nothing happened to him. If that meant he hated him in the process, then so be it.

So Dean laid there on the frayed old couch in the living room of a foreign run-down farmhouse and continued flipping through the pages of his magazine knowing he had just hurt the only person left on this whole goddamned planet he cared about. He wondered if his actions would just push him further away and before long even the beautiful women on those pages couldn't distract him from his own grief.

Morning came far too quickly for the brothers, exhaustion having forced them into sleep the night before. Even with the previous night's emotions still flowing in the back of their minds, they forced themselves to be in each other's presence. Very few words were exchanged as they chowed down on cold canned food.

Dean knew his brother wanted an apology or some reassurance or any fucking sign that his brother, the only person he has left, doesn't hate him. But he couldn't give him that. He couldn't give him what he wants because that would go against everything he was trying to convince him of. Convince them both of. So he sat and pondered and ignored every part of him that was saying just how badly he needed Sam.

He also thought about life Before. Before freaking hell on earth decided to break loose. To say he was happier then would have been a lie, he supposed. An over bearing father and his aimless need to please him. It had lead to nothing but pain and time in the military for him.

So he had taken this new world in stride where people turned into monsters, no matter what. You either turned and became a killer or you fought back and became a killer. There was no way around it, blood was on everyone's hands, no matter what.

The adjustment hadn't exactly been easy for him, but at least he was handling it a lot better than Sammy was. He knew his brother, knew him even better than he imagined he knew himself. The kid was strong, stronger than almost anyone he'd ever met, but he had far more trouble handling this whole disaster emotionally and they both knew it.

Sam had lost more than Dean could even imagine when everything turned and he knew those days Before, before he could reach him, haunted him every night. So when it came time to kill one of them, he saw the hesitation in Sam's eyes. He still saw them as people, even if it was only at first, but that moment of uncertainty was all one of them needed to get to him and then where would he be without his little brother with him? No where good, that's for sure.

The silence stretched on endlessly. Even after they had finished eating and packed up their few belongings, they barely exchanged any words. Finally, only after filling into the car did one of them break the silence.

"So where to now?"


End file.
